


A perfect height to soften the blow

by Nalyra



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: BottomHannibalDay, Canon Compliant, Erotic asphyxation, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Murder Husbands, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, voyerism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-11 20:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11721510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: A slice of life of our favorite Murder Husbands on the run, and games to keep things spicy. :PPWP with just a bit of story.





	A perfect height to soften the blow

He’s watching me watching him, tying the paisley tie with slow, deliberate movements, fingers gliding. He does it on purpose of course, this show in front of our bedroom mirror, knowing I find it riveting.

It’s not the cloth of course, nor even the act of hiding what’s underneath.

It’s the deliberate teasing of my impulse to strangle the living daylights out of him. Often.

He knows about my fantasies by now, knows how I … dreamed about killing him once upon a time. 

With my hands.

I sigh through my nose, level my eyes to his. I don’t bother to hide my body’s reactions to his manipulations, the way my blood rushes south. I let him see.

We exorcise our demons together now, on a rather regular basis. One way and another. It’s been a rough road, but we’re here, now. Still.

I adjust myself with a small smile that I know borders on wry, turning away to his almost inaudible chuckle. We’re supposed to be at a gallery opening in a little while, a rather high profile event for us these days, successfully ‚dead‘ to the world after all. Once more. Still, it does not mean they will ever stop looking. I press my lips together for a moment, Hannibal’s antennas for my state of mind finely tuned by now.

„You worry too much, Will.“

I roll my eyes at him, unseen, mind flashing back to when he said those words to me before, happy and pretty carefree, striding through the wreckage of a not quite accidental freeing. 

„I guess it’s too late to make the argument about staying low profile? Again?“

Hannibal clicks his tongue, the rustling behind me informing me he is putting on his jacket, his presence branding up to me when he steps close. I tilt my head just a bit to acknowledge him, knowing he likes to watch the planes and lines of my throat. I feel his hands glide onto my waist, gripping just carefully as not to crease my shirt. God forbid. The hair on my neck stands up when he leans closer, shamelessly pushing his nose into the bend of my neck just beyond the still open collar. He inhales and goosebumps erupt everywhere on my body, this action so often the kickoff for more intimate activities by now. His right hand travels up my arm and to my shoulder, pulling the collar away a bit so he can push his face closer to the skin. He is freshly shaven, skin smooth, lips nipping along the skin he can reach, a low hum of enjoyment reaching me as if from far away. I tilt my head further to give him more room, wondering if we’ll be late after all. My right hand comes up to hold his head there, pushing my hips back a bit, feeling the answering hardness. Hannibal touches his tongue to my pulse point for a moment, feeling the thrum and then his lips glide up to my ear, mouthing the shell until I’m ready to throw time and planning out of the window, his tongue dipping in, sending electricity everywhere before he withdraws, sighing gently.

„Ah, a very nice try, mylimasis.“

I jerk back to reality, my hand dropping to squeeze until I can actually think again, silently cursing. Dammit. I inhale deeply, turning again, with a deliberately nonchalant expression. Hannibal flashes me a grin, his eyes dropping to my crotch for a moment, his voice darkly amused.

„You play, you pay…“

This time I roll my eyes directly at him before joining in with his chuckle, shrugging a bit peevishly.

„Always worth a try.“

Hannibal steps close to me, his hand hovering over my crotch for a long moment, eyes burning. And then he steps away and I’m left to readjust myself, slightly ticked off. Oh, you just wait. His voice reaches me from the foyer, getting our coats.

„Coming, Will?“

No, not yet. I run my teeth over my front teeth, checking if I have everything I may need later on with me. The knife is heavy in my pocket, the weight grounding. I forego my own tie, leaving the collar open. Let them all see the bruises he put on my collarbones yesterday. I grin, looking forward to this suddenly, putting supplies into my jacket on a whim. 

You never know after all.

 

******

 

God, this is boring. 

And I -know- even Hannibal finds it boring, but being one of the Patrons in this smallish-Town-biggish-art-opening he cannot leave yet. I chug back another swig of brandy, feeling the buzz coil low in my belly. 

One of the security guards is eyeing Hannibal all the time. He has not reached for his phone or earpiece yet though. I perch my hip on the fake balcony sill, watching the commotion on the ground floor, half hidden in the shadows up here in the little alcove on the first floor. I narrow my eyes, watch as Hannibal looks up at me for a split second, before shooting a smile at the guard. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. I roll my head and shoulders, hear the little pops, evidence of the fact that I’m still bothered -despite- seeing right through it. And knowing that he knows. That I know. And so on. I furrow my brows, running my tongue over my teeth again. Hannibal is pulling at his tie, righting it. Not that it needs correction. I snort, taking another sip. He is full charms and dazzling deflection, everybody around him at his whim. I lightly toast him when he not-glances up at me, hopping off the balcony, needing to move suddenly. I walk off slowly, letting him see, knowing he will catch up with me at some point or another.

More rooms with so-called art. I wonder why Hannibal has taken up the Patronage for a split second, the displayed art not to his tastes after all. Way too modern.

It’s in the third room I wander into, the progression of displayed history reverted.

A huge birth chair, old, the little plaque informing me the wooden ugly thing is over 200 years old. I circle it, notice how the height is exactly that of my legs. How it has been set up with a privacy curtain, held back at both sides, heavy velvet draped prettily. Mhhh. Gosh he can be a kinky bastard sometimes.

„You found it.“

I click my tongue, half annoyed, half amused, refusing to turn to him just yet. I step up to the chair, fingers tracing the old leather and the polished wood, feeling his presence come closer slowly. He stops right behind me, body heat igniting the nerves in my back, making my neck tingle.

„It’s really the only interesting thing in this exhibition. And since it doesn’t quite fit I really… wonder why someone could have insisted on adding it to it.“

Hannibal hums, his tone carrying his amusement freely. 

„Yes, it really is a mystery.“

I grin, exhaling through my nose gently. Our games have adapted to include little stunts like this over the years, borne out of necessity at first, to keep our natures remotely satisfied and ourselves in turn safe, then later on, just for the fun of it. I tap the leather with my index finger before turning, locking eyes with him, already so close.

„I wasn’t aware you wanted to move again.“

Hannibal hesitates, his game brought up short by how easily I can see through him. It still astounds us both at times, when it really shouldn’t. I smirk a bit painfully, already mourning our house a bit, despite knowing that our new one will most likely be just as beautiful, just as fitting. Just somewhere else. I reach up, my fingers traveling up his tie to the knot, gripping it lightly. I drop my eyes to his mouth, my hand pulling and he comes to me, falling into me really, electricity and need flaring up like they do every time, even after all these years.  
He moans into my mouth, lips gliding, nipping, hands fidgeting in the air next to my waist. I draw back, making a show of licking my lips, raising my eyebrows silently. Hannibal pulls a face, opting for honesty for once, his voice low. 

„I wanted to show you the hot springs in the Jigokudani Monkey Park.“

He does not say ‚I want to keep you safe, so we have to move. We have lingered too long already.‘. He never does. I smile at him, just a small smile, letting him see I know, letting him see my acceptance. I nod once, just a miniature movement, letting the red in his eyes burn me, burning the world around us away.  
My hand tightens on his tie, pulling him down once more, the kiss deep this time, tongues stroking. This time his hands settle on my hips, pulling me forward, flush against him. My blood rushes south and I grin fiendishly into the kiss, feel the way his lips pull against mine in an answering motion. We like to leave our DNA when we leave. In a place bound to be investigated and analyzed. One way or another. 

Hannibal pulls back, drags his teeth through my graying beard, scraping them over my carotid, biting down at the point that has my knees buckle. I groan low in my throat, and then I shove him away with my left hand, my right still gripping the tie. He steps back, bends forward lightly with a gleeful snarl, eyes sparkling. I pant at him, pulling him forward and around after a moment, so that he hits the chair with his lower back now. He chuckles and then tilts his head, his hands dropping from me to his trousers, opening them matter of factly. I close my eyes for a split second, trying to regain a bit of control, but then control has always been futile between us. I drop the tie, stepping back and I pull at the curtains, dismayed when I find them not quite closing. The gap isn’t big but I eye it wearily, the words on my lips dying when I turn back towards Hannibal. He is prostrated on the chair, legs up, stroking himself lazily. Bastard. His eyes are dark, locked onto mine, the smile on his lips widening when we both hear the door close in the next room. Cold-hot shivers run through me, ire warring with iridescent arousal, making me light headed. Hannibal reaches for me with his right hand, left still stroking sedately, belying the intensity, leaking onto his stomach. I swallow and step forward, letting him pull me up by the hand because how could I not, sweat trickling down my spine beneath the expensive shirt.

I pull out the little pouch of lube I pocketed on a whim earlier this evening, ripping it open with my teeth. My fingers press in not overly gentle, needing to see him succumb to the sensation, his eyes slitted, hiss almost inaudible between us. I miss that spot on purpose, opening him for me, uncaring of the mess for once. I feel feverish, driven, the soft squelching sounds quiet between us. My neck prickles and I snarl, knowing we are watched, and Hannibal sighs a moan, hand picking up speed a bit. I slap it away suddenly, matching his grin when he chuckles. The chair is the perfect height after all. I open my own pants, just dropping them to my knees with my underwear, the tails of the shirt framing me obscenely. I know he likes the image I make, obscenity and expensive clothes, about to make him scream. 

The last of the lube is cool on my heated skin, helping a bit. I push close, my eyes searching his, helplessly echoing the smile that breaks free, a counterpoint of feelings, only increasing the need.

I lean forward and take the tie again, smile turning into a lewd grin. I position myself and then pull myself in via the tie, unrelentingly, Hannibal’s arms falling to the chair, his knuckles white where he grips the sides. The entry takes my breath, his body gripping me in a vice, so very tight. This won’t be long. Or gentle. He is quiet as I start to thrust, to claim, pupils blown, mouth having fallen open. His silver hair fans out, creating a halo, shivering with my thrusts. I tighten my hand on his tie, pulling him up slightly, using it as leverage, my mind a white hot red static of need. There is a groan behind us and I put more weight behind the thrusts, changing the angle. A helpless gasp on every push is my reward, the slapping sounds we produce enhanced and echoed after a moment. I feel a snarl lodged in my throat, a low growl breaking free through my clenched teeth. I twist my fist in the tie, obstructing Hannibal’s airway, and he comes apart under me, falling with a shout, his body clenching around me. I power through the aftershocks and the oversensitivity, knowing he likes the feeling of possession this produces, my vision drawing in until his wide-blown pupils are everything I see. My orgasm hits me almost by surprise, taking breath and sight, almost painful in intensity. 

I come back to myself draped half over Hannibal, stickiness fusing us together, sweat dripping to the ground and onto the chair. His fingers drag lazily through my hair, his other hand softly tracing my knuckles, sticking out white where my hand is still clenched on his tie. I let it drop with an effort, my hand hurting. There is a muffled groan behind us and then silence and Hannibal inhales deeply, grinning lewdly. I hit him in the chest lightly, shaking my head still lying on his chest. I lick my lips, shift my hips so I slip out, both of us groaning when we separate, my words quiet, just for him.

„I could really use a hot spring right now.“

Hannibal blinks and then the hand in my hair tightens, bringing my mouth to his, deep and intense and yet careful, brittle. The intensity of feelings between us hurts. I clench my eyes shut against the tears that threaten, pressing my forehead to Hannibal’s when the kiss ends, both of us breathless.

Quiet steps shuffle away and I hold my breath until I can hear the door closing, the chuckle breaking free of its own volition. I push myself up, stepping back slowly, doing myself up before I pull Hannibal up. I eye the mess wearily, giving Hannibal something of a skunk eye as he cleans himself perfunctory with his handkerchief, looking way too pleased with himself. I give him mine as well, waiting until he is presentable again before addressing the subject once more.

„You didn’t need to soften the blow, love.“

Hannibal nods once, his hand coming up to trace my jaw, voice low.

„I am aware. And yet, I am loathe to cause you pain.“

Now. We both don’t say it, history like an open maw of doom behind us. I lean in and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, before turning away, pushing the curtains back. He falls into step behind me and we brave the party downstairs together, looking indecently flushed and way too pleased. I hide my chuckle in a glass of champagne on the way out, embracing the looks thrown our way, secure in the knowledge that I will never have to meet these people again.

The night air is crisp and clean and the world beckons.  
Hannibal takes my hand and I throw the empty glass behind me, the glass shattering like the illusion this life was, reality rearranging itself to make a place for us once more. I smile.

**Author's Note:**

> \-----
> 
> Feedback and criticism are appreciated.  
> Let me know what you think?^^ <3


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